


Critical Wars Episode III: The Renegade on the Moon

by everlightly



Series: Critical Wars: The Mighty Nein in a Galaxy Far Far Away.... [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Critical Wars, Gen, Mighty Nein go to SPACE, Star Wars AU, The Mighty Nein AU, critical role au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28804584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everlightly/pseuds/everlightly
Summary: After a desperate escape from the Rebel base on Zadash, the Mighty Nein recover from the Empire's attack. With intel gathered from an Imperial droid, Mollymauk has his sights set on the planet Savalir, and the Jedi Temple that supposedly hides in its forest. The first phase of this operation will be to infiltrate one of the mining operations on Savalir's moons, where Empire prisoners are being held and forced to work in the quarry. Aboard a stolen Imperial freighter, the Mighty Nein travel to the Wildlands system in search of the last Jedi...
Series: Critical Wars: The Mighty Nein in a Galaxy Far Far Away.... [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903003
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Episode III: The Renegade on the Moon. In case you missed it, this work is part of a series! If you want to start at the beginning, look for Episode I: The Fugitive from Felderwin under my works. Or if you want to just jump in the middle, happy to have you!  
> A few things to note if you're new around here: I do take plot, character backstories and NPCs from Critical Role canon for this series, so here's your potential major spoiler warning(s). I wrote the outline for the series at episode 99 of the webseries, so loosely speaking up to there is what I'm pulling from. Most spoilers are more from the beginning of the series, where we are still learning character backstories and the like. If you want more specifics, feel free to leave a comment on this fic and I'll reply, or send me a message (tumblr is @everlightly, you'll recognize the icon haha). As for Star Wars spoilers, I take mostly lore and the occasional plot point, but nothing that would spoil major events from the movies and/or TV series. Any questions, just let me know!

“You are clear on your mission?” Allura asks in her holographic form. She annunciates each word very slowly, trying to emphasize the importance of her question. 

Molly grins. “Crystal clear, my liege.”

“I’m not royalty,” she replies, exhausted, like this is a debate they have often.

It had been two rotations since Mollymauk and his rebels had arrived from their compromised base on Zadash. Mostly everyone was still shaken, jumping at any vaguely alarm sound in this base on Allfield. Some showed up after a rotation, or reported in from other bases hidden throughout the galaxy, but Mollymauk was starting to get a very stark idea of how many people he lost due to his carelessness. And that was not a feeling on which he wanted to dwell.

Yussa’s flickering holographic form turns to narrow his eyes at Mollymauk. “You are to report to Reani on Uthodurn. Take half of your people and supplies to the base there for support. No detours, no delays.”

“I would never,” Mollymauk assures them.

“One more thing, before you take your leave,” Allura says. “I believe we would like to revisit the idea of getting external assistance in gathering knowledge on Jedi. Yussa and I know of a contact here on Rosohna. Handled well, we could negotiate for some more information.”

“You’ve said yourself,” Molly says, “there are more pressing matters to attend to.”

Yussa gives him a hard look. “We expect a full report in the transition in three rotations. We can discuss the contact once you arrive on Uthodurn.”

Mollymauk salutes in silence, with a small grin across his face. The two senators exchange doubtful glances before the holograms flicker out, and the communicatioins table grows dark.

Yasha watches on curiously, her arms folded, leaning against the fall wall of the room. “Will you take them up on the offer? You’ve been pushing for research on the Jedi for a while.”

“They said they would revisit the idea,” Molly says. “I don’t think that’s a promise. It’s just a distraction. I just feel like I need to see Savalir for myself. And if the Empire is interested in that planet as well, all the more reason to go right away.”

Mollymauk and Yasha leave the communications room, winding through the not-entirely unfamiliar feeling of Allfield’s underground base. Rebels mill around, with the occassional droid wandering through, but there is a distinct lack of cave-dwelling creatures flying among the tunnels. Mollymauk misses the kinzen, politely greeting anyone who entered the cavernous chambers of Zadash. Well, there still is one kinzen around these parts, but that one stayed wrapped around the shoulders of a moderately-traumatized deserter. 

“I will wager that they asked Bryce to have a word with me,” Molly says, as he and Yasha walk towards the main hangar. “Allura seems to think I would respect their request to follow orders rather than follow the orders themselves. Unfortunately, they are once again mistaken.”

Yasha frowns. “You really are a terrible example of a leader.”

“I disagree. I lead by example.”

As they enter the hangar bay, there is plenty of activity. The ships that he and his rebels had escaped on are being quickly prepared for another journey across the galaxy to Uthodurn. Bryce’s folks are helping to load up a variety of supplies and weakens to help with the defense of Uthodurn. Meanwhile, in the center of the hangar, prepared to leave before any of the others, his newly assembled crew waits before the small Imperial freighter. Unlike the rest of the hangar, there is nothing to load onto this decoy. 

Alongside them, Bryce awaits, staring up at the Imperial freighter sitting casually in their hangar. “Mollymauk, may I have a word?” Bryce asks as he approaches.

“Just the person I was looking for!” Molly exclaims, patting their shoulder. “How are you Bryce?”

“Don’t try to play games with me,” Bryce chides. “Please, reconsider this mission.”

“Bryce, I know I can be straightforward with you,” Molly says. “I need to see Savalir with my own eyes. It’s like I can feel it in my bones. There is something calling me there.” 

Bryce closes their eyes. “As much as you feel a calling there, I have a very distinctly bad feeling about this whole endeavor.” 

“Hey Beau!” Molly calls. “What are your thoughts on Savalir?”

Beau pauses her examination of her gun to call back, “Probably a suicide mission!”

Molly frowns, a little disappointed, but his grin soon returns. Molly turns back to Bryce and rests his hand on their shoulder. “See? Beau is confident in our success, and so am I. My beautiful face will return before you even notice its gone.”

“I certainly won’t miss your attitude,” Bryce says, gently removing his hand from their shoulder. 

“I’ve already organized half of my rebels to head out to Uthodurn, but some of them will still be hanging out here, and will heed your every order.”

“If they learned anything from you, I’m not how much help they will be.”

“I am very helpful!” Molly protests.

Bryce only snorts in response.

“Can I make one little request of you, Bryce?” Molly asks.

“I have a feeling you would no matter my protests.”

Molly slips a small disk from one of the pockets of his long coat, and illuminates a hologram for just Bryce to see. “Just a little something I would like to be fetched. Got all the details right here.”

Bryce only sighs in response and takes it from him. 

He gives them a lopsided smile and says, “Force be with you, Bryce.”

“Force be with you, Mollymauk,” they reply. 

He spins on heel to face his motley crew. “Are we ready to depart? Weapons and explosives all packed up?” 

Jester salutes and the same time her red droid beeps affirmative. “Aye aye, Captain!” 

Beau saunters forward and drapes an arm across Molly’s shoulder and drops her voice low so only he can hear. “You know, this feels highly irresponsible to leave the remains of your forces behind after a huge battle against the Empire. Aren’t you going to, like, say a few words?”

Molly shrugs. “They have their orders. And since when have I been responsible? I’m infamous for shirking my duties especially when it comes to acknowledging my failures!” Molly places his hand over his chest. “Hmm, that felt a little too serious. Time to lighten the mood! Caleb, are you seriously bringing the kinzen?”

Caleb looks up, startled, and the kinzen sitting on his shoulders gives Molly an identical look. “Um… yeah?”

“I love to see it. Maybe we pick up a teeny kinzen space suit along the way,” Molly replies and then sashays onto the ship. 

Fjord stares after Mollymauk, and mutters, “What have I gotten myself into?”

“If anything goes wrong, I blame you,” Nott says to Fjord, before following Molly on board. 

“Fjord!” calls Molly. “Let’s get this baby in the air!” 

The ship is pretty bare, with a large open cargo hold, and a single door and small ramp leading up to the cockpit. There are a few scattered metal cargo containers, but The Gentleman’s crew already cleaned out anything of value before handing over the Imperial ship. The door to the cockpit slides open with a hiss, and Fjord takes his seat in the pilot chair, while Molly flops into the copilot chair. With the flip of a few switches, Fjord opens up the power lines, and the ship whirs to life, smoother than any ship he had flown before, even back when he was with Uk’otoa. The dashboard is sleek, with clear displays of engine statistics, scanner results and communication panels. Even the takeoff sequence is automatic, a luxury he had never been afforded.

The ship begins hovering above the floor and drifting upwards through the open hangar doors. Gray skies loom over them, and gentle pattering rain taps on the front viewport and into the hangar below. Bryce and the rebels watch from below. It doesn’t feel like a proper sendoff. More like people lining up for a funeral. Fjord tries to shake the feeling.

The rest of the crew filters into the cockpit, taking their stations. Caleb sits towards the back, the kinzen curled around his neck, and he begins expertly scanning through any data retained in the ship’s information deck. Jester sits in the chair besides the droid port, where Sprinkle hooks up to the central system. Beau, Yasha and Nott take their seats across the front panel of the ship. Beau throws her feet up onto the dashboard and begins fiddling with her staff on her lap. 

“So what’s your plan?” Fjord asks.

“Go to Savalir. Find a Jedi or two, and maybe liberate an enslaved moon along the way?”

“That is a concept more than a plan,” Caleb says from his station.

“You mean a plan-plan? Oh, I don’t really have one,” Molly says.

“What do you mean, you don’t have a plan-plan?” Fjord asks.

Molly shrugs. “That’s not really how I operate.”

“So we are just going to fly a stolen Empire cargo ship straight into enemy airspace and then improvise?”

“Technically,  you are going to fly a stolen Empire cargo ship straight into enemy airspace, but that’s the right idea.”

“Do any of you have a plan?” Fjord asks. The cargo ship moves through the atmosphere, and the sound of rain on the exterior fades as they emerge above the clouds. The engine roar louder as the ship pulls free from the planet’s gravity, and then is once again surrounded by the endless darkness of space, with handfuls of glittering stars scattered about.

Meanwhile, there is no response from the rest of the crew, avoiding eye contact with Fjord. Nott tightens her seatbelt as the blue-gray sky fades from view, replaced by the vastness of space. Yasha sniffs at a strand of her hair. 

“Caleb, please tell me you at least have a plan?” Fjord begs.

“Give me twenty minutes,” Caleb responds.

Fjord lets out a sigh of relief, “Thank the stars.”

“Caleb is very smart,” Nott says, to no one in particular. “Are we sure this ship is safe?”

“I have a good feeling about it,” Molly replies. “Make the jump to Savalir!”

Fjord closes his eyes, whispering a silent prayer to the universe, before launching the Imperial ship into hyperspace.

  



	2. Chapter 2

“So before we charge into enemy territory, does anyone have any questions?” Molly says, after they had been drifting through hyperspace.

“Caleb, do you have a plan yet?” Fjord asks. 

“I do,” he says. “We need to destroy the ship.”

“While we’re in it?” Beau asks. “I figured you would betray us, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“I am serious,” Caleb says, as he distractedly scratches the head of the kinzen in his lap. “If we make the ship look a little worse for wear, we would have a reason for an unexpected landing on a moon base. Although we probably need to readjust our approach so it looks like we are originating from Empire-controlled shipping routes.”

“I can handle that,” Fjord says from the pilot seat.

“I can communicate with the base and negotiate our way in,” Caleb says. “Empire protocols, and all that.”

“Do we even know what moon we are going to? I thought Savalir had a million moons,” Beau says.

Molly pulls out a disk from his coat, containing the information collected from the Empire droid head, and connects it to the ship’s dashboard. A holographic map of Savalir and all of the moon orbits appears. “Only four moons, not a million. I figured we would target this one, Base 64-NST. It’s close enough to Savalir that we can drop down to the surface without drawing too much attention, and at this point in its orbit, its pretty isolated from the other moons.”

“Why do we need to stop at the moon before going to the planet?” Jester asks.

“I would like to get some intel before we descend, specifically who they have kidnapped to run their mines, and what to expect on the planet. Oh, and how to save everyone being held prisoner.” 

“I’m all about ambitious plans, but I don’t even think we could liberate four moons-worth of mining operation prisoners,” Beau says.

“But with the intel we gather from this one, I’m hoping we will have the information for the Rebellion to launch a full scale attack on the remaining moons,” Molly says.

“Alright then, I have another concern,” Beau says.

“I’m open to criticism,” Molly says, twirling his whip-like tail around his wrist, leaning back further in his chair.

“Why is more than half of our so-called ‘elite team’ made up of people we just met?” She glances around. “No offense, I guess.”

“Fair point,” Fjord says. “A question I keep asking myself as well. Why are we here?”

“We want to help, obviously,” Jester says.

Mollymauk jumps to his feet, goes over to where Caleb and Jester are sitting and wraps his arms around the both of them. The kinzen chitters from Caleb’s lap and brushes against Molly’s hand. “Beau, don’t be so rude to our guests. I had a very specific reason for including these folks on our little adventure. For one, between you and Fjord, I don’t think there is any ship in the galaxy that could shoot us down. He proved as much when we escaped from Zadash. Our ex-Empire friend is sure to have the details we need, and the moral obligation as a deserter to help right the atrocities he’s committed!” Caleb looks decidedly uncomfortable with this phrasing and Mollymauk’s proximity. “I suppose I also needed people who were willing to take on the mission without too much questioning. Lots of rebels respect authority and all that.” 

Mollymauk spins around, and collapsing dramatically back into his seat. 

“Your rebels are loyal to you,” Yasha says. “They admire you. Follow you wherever you need them to.”

Molly smiles, but his eyes grow distant. “They know Mollymauk, a leader in a noteworthy coat who gets out of danger as often as he falls into it. A symbol of insurgence and gritty perseverance in the face of an undefeatable enemy.” He kicks his feet back up onto the console and returns to twirling his tail around his wrist. “Truth is, I’m tired of the show. I’m tired of seeing people who trust me rather blindly get killed. I need a team that keeps me humble, and believe me, it is really hard to say that. But this isn’t a place to be too idealistic of the outcomes.” 

“I guess you’re lucky to be friend with the two most attractive and skilled rebels in the galaxy, willing to follow your stupid non-plans and call you out along the way.” Beau says, grinning in Yasha’s direction. 

“Speaking of, how about we figure out this non-plan and make it more of a plan?” Fjord says. “We have maybe ten percent of a plan. What will we do once we are  on the base?” 

“So I have actually thought about this, right this minute,” Molly says, zooming back in on the moon map. “I figure break up into two groups. Half of us will go to the comms tower and hardwire the all-clear signal, here,” he says, pointing to a large tower at the center of the base. “Hopefully that would be enough to keep the rest of the bases unaware of our intrusion. Another issue is the heavy artillery, here and here. That needs to be destroyed or any attempt to fly a ship off the base will automatically be shot down.” 

“I call blowing up artillery,” Nott says, grinning.

“Actually, I need you with me in the comms tower.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I didn’t. There’s another thing too. It looks like the mine is just a pit at the center, here. All of the facilities the stormtroopers use— barracks, armory, mess hall— are all connected to this main area. The artillery group might be able to arm the people and incite a little rebellion of their own.”

“From what I can tell, personnel is pretty thin between these four moons,” Caleb says, scanning through personnel assignments on the ship’s database. “The prisoners could easily overwhelm, if given the weapons to fight back.”

“Love to hear it. Here’s how it’s going to go. I’m thinking me, Beau, Caleb and Nott head to the communications tower, while Yasha, Jester and Fjord go to the hangar bay.”

“Should we really be splitting up?” Jester asks. “It’s already so few of us compared to how many guards?”

“Smaller teams can move more quietly,” Molly says. “Gives one team a backup plan if they are compromised.” He zooms in again on the webbed tunnels attaching hangars and quarters scattered across the northern pole of the small moon. “These mining operations have tons of underground networks used for moving ore around, so we can use those tunnels to avoid running into troopers before the all-clear signal is hardwired.”

“This is a bit strange, though,” Caleb says, getting up from his station and looking at the map. “Most of these hangars don’t even look to be in use. No ships are recorded to be stored there. Just empty hangars.”

“If the Empire is running thin on personnel in this sector, that’s probably the explanation,” Molly says, dismissively.

“Or this is all a trap,” Fjord suggests.

“I don’t like this plan,” Nott says. “Caleb, give us a new plan.”

Molly frowns. “This is more of a plan than I ever have.”

“I can attest to that,” Beau says.

“As much as I would like to flesh out this twenty percent of a plan significantly more,” Fjord says, “I’m afraid we are approaching the drop zone.”

Molly claps his hands and rubs them together. “Oh perfect! Someone destroy the ship.”

Caleb turns towards the ship’s dashboard and presses a few buttons casually, before the ship lurches out of hyperspace and red lights and alarms start blaring. Sprinkle rolls forward and Beau grabs onto Yasha’s seat to keep from flying into the front viewport. Caleb takes the full force of the deceleration, his ribs slamming into the console, and he wheezes, leaning over the dashboard.

“I love when my orders are followed without question,” Molly says, leaning back to pat Caleb’s shoulder. He turns towards Beau. “You should be taking notes.”

“This feels like a completely stupid plan,” Beau snaps back.

“I am never getting on a spaceship again after this,” Nott declares. 

The hailing beacon flickers on.

“Caleb, anytime now?” Fjord says, but Caleb only waves his hands, desperately trying to catch the breath knocked from his chest.

“Do your thing, Fjord!” Jester says. “You’ll do great!”

“I really hate this,” Fjord mutters. 

Molly gently moves Caleb and his wheezing further from the comm as Fjord opens up the communication channel. “This is CS-13688 reporting critical hyperdrive failure. Permission to land and make repairs?”

“CS-13688, copy that. Please provide access codes.”

Fjord grimaces and pushes a few buttons on the dashboard, hoping they sent correctly.

“Confirmed. You are very off course, CS-13688. Procedure requires you to report the identification numbers of all personnel on board. Standing by.”

Fjord’s eyes widened, and he presses down on the button. “No need for identification numbers, sir.”

Yasha and Molly tense at the refusal, while Beau opens her mouth to interrupt, but Jester gives her a thumbs up, as if saying everything is going according to plan. Caleb, finally catching his breath, nods at Fjord to continue.

Fjord glances at Caleb, and says back into the comm, “We will only be making a quick stop. No need for identification numbers.”

After a few moments of silence, the voice replies. “No need for identification numbers. Please proceed to landing.”

“We’ll just take one of the distant landing pads. Don’t want to get in the middle of your operations,” Fjord says.

“Yes, take one of the distant landing pads. Copy that.” The red hail beacon flicks off.

“There is no way that just worked,” Beau says.

“I told you. Fjord is very charming,” Jester says. 

“That was beyond charming,” Molly says, staring at Fjord.

Fjord only shrugs in response. “We’re coming in for our landing now. Far enough away we don’t draw too much attention.”

“How did you literally just fly us straight into an Empire base without reproach?” Beau asks again. “And you were worried about this?”

“I don’t like to push my luck.”

“You just talk? And people listen?”

Fjord shrugs. “I learned from the old crew I use to travel with. It’s simple enough though. It’s just about stating your intentions plainly, so they aren’t questioned. I’m sure you could learn it too.”

“Beau has a sour disposition,” Molly says. “I’m afraid she would prove your theory wrong.”

“I could out-charm you anytime, Mollymauk!” Beau snaps, and Molly just laughs in response. 

As the ship approaches the moon, the mining base comes into view. It’s made up of multiple domes, constructed by transparent panels sealed along arcs of metal framing. A red, rectangular rayshield at the entrance protects the atmospheric integrity of each pressurized hangar. One dome, larger than the rest, covers the entrance to a large open quarry, dotted with silver lights. The mine is deep enough that the darkness swallows any glimpse of what lies further down. Adjacent to that main dome is a tall tower, overlooking the operation, as well as in view of all of the hangar bays scattered around the northern pole of the silver, rocky moon.

Fjord guides the ship towards one of the empty hangars, far from the center of the operation and as far away from the main tower as possible. The red ray shield lets the ship in without issue, as Fjord activates the ship’s landing procedure. 

“Now, we have all sorts of fun little toys that Bryce kindly allowed us to borrow,” Molly says, digging through a large box in the cargo hold. He first pulls out two hard-encased backpacks and hands them over to Yasha and Jester. “For all your explosive needs.”

“I wanted the explosives,” Nott mutters and Molly wags his finger and tosses a different detonator in her direction. 

“For you, I have these smoke screens. They had a fantastically noxious odor that is sure to take out any lifeform with smell receptors. Pop one of these into the comm tower and we can be in and out in no time.”

“I feel like real bombs would take care of the problem,” Nott mutters. “Less fuss.”

“No, blowing up the communication tower would decidedly not hardwire the all-clear signal.. A couple of goggles and breathing filters that would decidedly not withstand the vacuum of space if Nott tries to swipe some of Jester’s explosives. As for our ascent up the tower, we have these.” He pulls out a few sets of cable launches, and passes them out to Beau, Caleb and Nott. 

This hangar is completely empty of ships, as Caleb had reported. But instead, filling the hangar are hundred of metal crates, overflowing with rock and rubble. There are stacked dozens high, and creates pyramids around the hangar, covered in dust, seemingly untouched since they were dropped here.

As the team descends the ramp, Jester frowns. “This is pretty eerie. Are we sure this is the right place?”

Why leave all the rock here?” Beau asks. “Doesn’t mining usually involve shipping the rock somewhere?”

“Must be pretty short-staffed these days, if they can’t get the rock moved out” Molly says. He pulls out a hologram disk containing a map of the base and illuminates it in his hand. He guides them to the far side, weaving around stacks of boxes, where the exit of one of four conveyor belts lay. “Here’s where we split. Yasha, you’re in charge of team Explosion. If you follow this path, it should take you to the center mines, and then beyond that is the main hangar bay where it seems ships are being stored. That’s where you’ll find your artillery targets.”

Yasha spins the barrel of her rotating weapon, and slings it onto her back. “Alright.”

“Here’s your copy of the map,” Molly says, tossing over another small hologram disk. With a small salute, he grins at his teams. “See you on the other side.”

Sprinkle rolls over to the panel beside the conveyor, and unlocks the sliding doors that cut off the path deeper into the base. Down the row, four pairs of mechanical doors rumble open, the sound echoing through the empty hangar. 

Fjord and Yasha duck into the tunnel, crouching so their head doesn’t brush the top roof. Jester picks up Sprinkle and gently sets him on the unmoving conveyor, then following herself.

“Force be with you,” Molly calls in.

“Force be with you, Molly,” Yasha says back. “See you soon.”

As soon as they are out of sight, Molly turns back to the rest.

“We don’t have long before they get curious about the cargo ship,” Molly says. “We better get moving.”

“This way,” Caleb says, and leads them the other direction. The kinzen stretches his wings and leaping from Caleb’s shoulder, while the shadow of the communications tower looms over, visible through the transparent dome.

Beau grabs Molly’s arm as Nott and Caleb move ahead and enter the far conveyor tunnel, with the kinzen gliding between them. 

“This seems all too easy,” Beau hisses. “Any of these people can betray us at any moment.”

“I have a good feeling about these people, believe it or not,” Mollymauk says. “I just need you to trust me a little bit.”

“I trust you,” Beau says, “but I don’t trust any of them.”

“Think about it,” Molly says. “What are the chances these people stumbled into our base, lead the Empire straight to us, and we were able to escape with just the right droid head that held intel on this hush-hush Savalir operation?”

“Sure, we were lucky that the droid we snagged have information on Savalir,” Beau says.

“The Rebellion has never been lucky,” Molly says. “It has to be something more than that.”

“Not the Force.”

“Yes, the Force, Beau! Come on.”

Beau sighs. “You know I don’t really do all that energy-of-the-universe stuff.”

“It connects everything in the universe,” Molly insists. “And I think it led us here, to Savalir. I have a good feeling.”

Beau gives him a last, skeptical glare. 

“I have a good feeling,” Molly repeats and then follows Caleb and Nott out of the hangar and into the tunnel.


	3. Chapter 3

The path along the defunct conveyor is cloudy with dust, with a gentle hum of a dust collector along with their echoing footsteps. Sprinkle projects out a dim light that illuminates the tunnel ahead, and floating wisps of particles that whirl with every movement. As they breath, clouds of rocky dust swirl, tickling their noses. Yasha has her rotating barrel gun at the ready, despite the eerie quiet around them.

“How much further?” Fjord whispers.

Jester pulls out the hologram chip that Mollymauk had offered. By her feet, Sprinkle chirps and extends a claw from behind one of his red panels. Jester activates the hologram and holds it out for his little claw. “I’ll get you your own projector soon,” she whispers.

“The central mineshaft should be coming up soon,” Fjord notes, bending over at a right angle to get a better look at the map, now at BB-unit height. It’s a practiced gesture, one he grew use to, traveling with Jester, Sprinkle, and the makeshift hologram projector the droid lacked.

Yasha halts, and the everyone stops behind her. “Do you hear that?”

Faintly, in the distance, there is a rhythmic mechanic clanking. 

“How are we going to move through the mine unseen?” Fjord whispers. “We need to cross through the mine and find the other conveyor if we are going to make it to that main hangar.”

“We can just pretend to be prisoners,” Jester says.

Fjord glances over at Jester’s pristine, white Nicrodranas-style clothes. “We might have to find some disguises.”

Yasha crouches down to look at the map. “Maybe some of these tunnel connect around the main quarry?”

As Fjord begins scanning the map, Jester glances further down the conveyor tunnel. Despite the darkness, she swears she catches sight of a flash of metal.

“I don’t think we’re alone,” she whispers. She squints into the darkness, beyond the reach of Sprinkle’s dim flashlight.

A pair of red eyes stares back.

Jester yelps and stumbles backwards. In unison, Yasha and Fjord spin around and Yasha revs the barrel of her gun, illuminating the with bright blue energy. The glow of the weapon reveals the vague shape of a figure, standing in the middle of the conveyor, unmoving. Sprinkle redirects his own light towards the shadow.

Fighting back again the initial wave of panic, Jester steps forward, gently moving the barrel of Yasha’s gun towards the floor.

“Hello?” Jester says. “Can we help you?”

“Jester,” Fjord hisses, taking out his own blaster from his holster. “Get back!”

The figure closes in enough for his face to be illuminated by the dim light of Sprinkle’s flashlight.

The man is an old human, with a cloud of shocking white hair framing his dark-skinned face. His one visible eye is completely clouded over in a milky white, while the other is covered with a metal eyepiece, a faint red light dimly lit where an eye might once have been. His clothes are tattered and layered in grime and dust, matching the rock dust covering the tunnel like camouflage. A small red light, similar to the one near his eyesocket illuminates over his shoulder, and hovers forward. It is identical in shape to the droid that chased Jester, Caleb and Fjord through the streets of Nicodranas, but about a quarter the size, no bigger than a teacup.

Fjord trains his gun on the miniature recon droid as it moves towards them, but Jester waves him off. “I think we’re safe, Fjord. You can put away your guns now.”

“That droid is for recon,” Fjord says. “If it gets away, it will alert the entire base to our presence.”

“The droid is no Imperial loyalist, I assure you,” the old man says. “Although you folks, I’m less sure about.”

Jester steps forward and extends her hand. “My name is Jester. This is Fjord, Yasha and Sprinkle!”

“Should we maybe discuss this first? How did he even know we were here?” Fjord asks, his voice pitching high, looking at Jester. He spins to look at the man. “How did you know we were here?”

The man arches an eyebrow and stomps one foot on the conveyor below, and the sound echoes around, presumably down the entire tunnel. “Something of a natural security system.”

Fjord turns back to Jester, his eyes wide. “This must be a trap.”

“I don’t think the Empire is hiding their security detail in defunct tunnels,” Jester drawls. Turning back to the man, she asks, “What’s your name?”

“You can call me Shakäste,” the man says. “And this is my seeing eye droid. Reprogrammed her up myself.” The droid’s red light flickers, and Shakäste’s metal eye mirrors the effect. “You can trust her as much as you choose to trust me. But first a question. What are three strangers doing in this here tunnel? You are no prisoners, that’s for sure.”

Fjord begins, “I don’t know if we can say—” 

Jester interrupts, “We are here to save everyone. We’re from the Rebellion. Why are you in this tunnel? Are you hiding?”

The old man straights up as best he can, and there are a few loud pops from his creaking spine. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t have lasted long in the mines. A few of the prisoners collude to keep me hidden here. It really seemed like a matter of time before I’m found out or die.”

“We are here to help,” Jester says. “You aren’t going to die here.”

Shakäste’s droid floats close to Jester’s face, as if trying to read her expression. “And what do you have in all those backpacks and bags? A magic teleporter that can get us to a new galaxy?”

Jester swings her backpack around front, and Fjord prays none of the explosives are too rattled. “No teleporter, but we’ve got lots of explosives to help us.” Yasha mirrors Jester’s movements, unsealing the metal lid to corroborate her claim.

“And the purse?” he asks, the small droid buzzing close to Fjord.

“It’s just my satchel,” Fjord says, leaning away from the droid hovering around his face. “Just a few of my personal effects I didn’t want to leave in someone else’s care.”

“He always carries that bag around,” Jester says. “It’s never exploded or anything though, so it’s probably fine.”

After a moment, Shakäste nods, seemingly having decided something for himself. “I will admit,” he says, “I don’t know how much three lifeforms and a droid can do against an entire base of Empire troops, that won’t just get yourself killed and the rest of the prisoners a harsher sentence.”

“Oh don’t worry, we have a full plan. Sprinkle, bring forward the map!” Jester says, motioning grandly to her droid. Sprinkle rolls forward with the holographic map of the base still illuminated in his claw, chirping what sounds vaguely like a fanfare as he approaches.

“We are somewhere here,” Yasha says, pointing to the map. “We need to get to the other side of the quarry and start setting up for an escape in the main hangar, here.”

“What can you tell us about the enemy presence in that hangar?” Jester asks.

Shakäste’s droid hovers forward, circling the hologram, and follows Yasha’s pointing around the map. “The troopers? Most of them are concentrated in the mine as far as I know. The other prisoners would know better than I, if at all.”

Yasha looks towards Shakäste. “Tell me, do you and your people have any way of fighting back?”

“We had the beginnings of a plan. Even if not realistic, it was enough to maintain morale.”

“A plan to escape?” Jester asks.

“Yes, but even our most able-bodied are weak. They are all forced to work for hours upon hours on end, with little in ways of food. It’s how the Empire keeps us submissive.”

“What can we do to help?”

“Come with me.” Shakäste starts walking down the dark passage, his sight reliant on the droid hovering a few feet ahead. “I can lead you to the edge of the quarry, and show you all what you’re working with.”

They follow Shakäste further down the passage. Sprinkle rolls ahead, lighting up the conveyor path with his small spotlight, footsteps echoing. After walking for nearly twenty minutes, there is a crack of white fluorescent light in the darkness ahead. As they approach the end of the conveyor, there is another set of doors, mirroring the ones they entered through, except these doors have been knocked off their track, and lay loose in the entrance. There is a stack of dusty blankets jumbled in the corner of the passage, and Shakäste slowly drops onto the blankets to sit, breathing heavily. 

“Please, sit,” he says. “Nila will be here soon. She can give you a better idea of what’s going on. Then it’s up to you whether you stay or abandon ship.”

“I’m pretty sure Caleb broke our ship, so there isn’t really anyway out except the main hangar,” Jester says. Fjord squeezes his eyes shut, suddenly reminded of the precariousness of their situation. 

Jester peaks through the crack in the conveyor door in the quarry. From her limited view, she can see a dozen or so lifts with large metal buckets moving ore towards to surface of the quarry. Humming white lights are strung down the narrow walkway that passes by the conveyor exit. She tries to angle her gaze downward, but the depth of the mine is too far for her to see the bottom. 

“How long have you been here?” Fjord asks, as he sits down on the conveyor belt, shifting awkwardly as the chill of metal presses against his legs. 

Shakäste sighs, “It’s hard to say. Rotations aren’t easy to keep track of here. If I had to guess? A handful of months. Others have been here much longer than that.”

“And you’ve just been hiding in this tunnel the whole time?” he asks.

“When it became clear I would not survive very long under these working conditions, a few folks organized to hide me here until help came. I sometimes wondered why I bother, but maybe my purpose was finding you all before you got yourselves killed. Something kind to tell myself anyway.”

Jester scrambles backwards from the doors, as a shadow passes in front, briefly blocking the light from leaking into the tunnel. Sprinkle rolls forward to get between her and the door, as the shadow pauses.

“Shakäste?” whispers a small voice from the other side.

“Here, Nila,” he replies. “I have a couple friends here with me.”

A black-haired firbolg peaks through the gap in the doors, and glances across the new faces. “How did you manage this?” she asks. Quietly, she pushes open half of the doors, slips into the passage, and then shuts it as much she can behind her.

“It seems the rebellion has heard of our plight,” Shakäste replies, holding out his open hands towards Nila’s voice.

Nila sits across from him, and pulls from her tattered gray uniform two compact bars and presses them into his hands. Shakäste murmurs a swift thank you, and begins chewing, slowly, savoring each bite. 

“We are here to help,” Jester says to Nila. “Shakäste was telling us about a plan that could be set in motion.”

“I feel like I am dreaming,” whispers Nila. Her voice is hoarse, and there is a thin layer of gray dust covering her brown face. “Could the Rebellion truly have come for us?”

“You better believe it,” Jester says, smiling. Sprinkle chirps a sing-song fanfare beside her.

Fjord takes a deep breath, building up an air of confidence about him as easily as donning a cloak. “We heard of a plan you had started working on,” he says., leaning forward. “What will you have us do?”

“It’s not much of a plan,” Nila admits. “It’s more foolish dreaming than anything. Something to keep us hopeful.”

“Rebellions are built on hope,” Yasha says quietly.

Nila’s eyes rise up to meet Yasha’s, and there is a moment of understanding that passes between them.

At last, Nila nods. “There are lifts that take the rocks up to the top of the quarry, where some conveyors are in operation. Up near the top of those lifts is the armory. In case riots break out, their weapons are close by. The plan was to ride the lifts up to the top, and then jump onto the platform holding the armory.”

“What about trooper presence in the mines and hangars?” Yasha asks.

Nila frowns. “Shipments supposedly leave every couple rotations, but no one’s ever seen a freighter fly overhead. They are continuously filling empty hangars around the base with the rock that’s dug up. Not too many troopers are stationed there from what I’ve gathered.”

“So you intended to break into this armory?” Fjord asks.

“We had plans to raid it, but the person behind the plan was taken away for some ‘reconditioning’, as they call it. She’s been missing for over a week now. It might be just the distraction we need, though,” Nila whispers. “They might not expect anything from us without the bravest among us present. But the real problem is that the gap between the platform and the lifts is almost eight feet wide. Most of us can barely walk to the barracks without stumbling, let alone make that jump. And it is a long ways back down the quarry if missed.”

“We can handle that,” Yasha says, with a curt nod. 

Nila’s eyes lighten a little bit at this confidence. “The weapons could be loaded on the empty lift buckets that travel back down into the quarry. At the base of the mine, we could get them unloaded and hidden amongst the other rubble until we are ready to act.”

“Someone still needs to take care of the artillery,” Jester says, swinging her backpack of bombs around to the front. 

“Could someone be disguised as one of you?” Fjord asks, tipping his head in Nila’s direction. “To move towards the main hangar without arising suspicion?”

“I suppose its possible, but there is a risk.” Nila considers for a second, and then shifts her posture so her left leg is in front, showing off a silver cuff around her ankle, just above the hard-soled gray shoes. She says, “We all have these to subdue us if needed. If someone is spotted without this, there would surely be trouble.”

“That’s another piece of this puzzle,” Shakäste says. “If we hope to act against the Empire, these bands need to be deactivated or everyone will be knocked out before even beginning.”

“Believe it or not, I think we might have someone who can take care of that,” Fjord says. He turns to Jester to continue, “Can you get a message to Mollymauk?”

“There’s more of you?” Shakäste asks, eyebrows high.

“Surely we couldn’t hope to liberate this entire operations with only three people and a droid.”

“Yeah, of course not!” Jester says. “We have seven people and a droid.”

Shakäste’s shoulders stoop a bit. He takes a silent bite of his food. “I guess we are trusting you, baby.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Yasha turns to Jester and says, “If you and your droid can patch through to Mollymauk, we could let them know about the cuffs.”

Jester nods eagerly, and gestures for Sprinkle to come closer. The droid’s antenna blinks red at the top, and Jester starts connecting through the mechanisms on her wrist. The screen has a handful of signals, all Imperial encryptions. She starts tacking a few signals onto the ends of the Empire communications, like she had noticed the rebel had done on Nicodranas. After only a few minutes, the antennae turns a solid blue as the connection is made, woven amongst the Empire’s own. A thrill runs through her, with how she tiptoes under the Empire’s nose.

“Calling Mollymauk,” Jester says into her wristlet. “Are you there?”

“I hope you haven’t run into trouble already,” Molly says back.

“No trouble, and in fact we’ve made a few friends,” Jester replies. “But the prisoners here have these ankle bracelets that could complicate things.”

There is a beat of silence, before Mollymauk replies, “We’re almost at the tower. Give us twenty minutes and I’m sure we can figure something out. After that, you’ll get a signal once we are clear in the tower, and then go ahead and get your plan rolling.”

“Copy that,” Jester says, and the blinking antenna falls dark. She smiles at her companions. “The plan is in motion.”

“He didn’t say what the signal was, though,” Fjord says.

Yasha shrugs. “Knowing Mollymauk, the signal will be extremely obviously.”

Nila and Shakäste shared a look of mild concern between them. 

“Sprinkle and I can go with Nila and she can lead us to the path for the big hangar,” says Jester. “Fjord and Yasha, you can take care of the armory. Easy.”

Fjord frowns. “Jester, I don’t know if we should split up anymore than we already have. We are in the middle of enemy territory with next to no back-up.”

“I will have Sprinkle,” Jester says. “We will be safe.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” Shakäste says. “The stormtrooper numbers may be thinned, but they are ruthless around here.”

“But we only have twenty minutes, and it will take probably that long to get to the main hangar,” Yasha says. “I don’t like the plan, but I don’t know how much of a choice we have.”

“Your mother is going to kill me,” Fjord says to Jester.

“We have to do what it takes to free these people,” Jester says, staring at Fjord with determination. “I can handle this.”

Fjord closes his eyes and takes in a slow breath through his nose. After a moment, his eyes open and his expression falls into a steady look of purpose. “Then we best get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for reading! As a side note, Chapter 4 is going to be delayed a week, but rest assured, we will be back to weekly updates on February 13th.


	4. Chapter 4

“Give us twenty minutes. After that, you’ll get a signal once we are clear in the tower, and then go ahead and get your plan rolling.”

Molly had been leading his team down the other tunnel when Jester’s transmission came through. How it managed to slide under the Empire’s radar and bypass a communication jam, he couldn’t tell. After Jester signs off, Mollymauk looks back over his shoulder and asks, “How close are we?”

Caleb activates a small projected map of the facility. “I believe we are almost underneath the tower now. We have to be close.”

“What plan do you have to get us out of this solid metal tunnel?” Nott asks. She has her gun pulled out in front of her, constantly checking over her shoulder at everyone echoing footsteps and hum of the operating base. Mollymauk tries to shrug off the nervous energy that Nott emits, but in this eerie tunnel the paranoia is contagious. 

Molly stretches up and taps the ceiling with his fingertips. Nott shines the spotlight of her rifle towards his hand, lighting a grated panel that lies at the top of the tunnel. A gentle humming sound vibrates from within, never louder than their own footsteps. 

“When you move around rocks,” Molly says, “you need to have dust collectors, so the dust doesn’t build up and explode. This is probably where the dust goes in, and I would bet is linked to the ventilation on the walkways as well. Easy enough to crawl through.”

Beau jogs ahead a little ways, under a section of the grated panel and pulls out a small laser tool. She leaps vertically, threading her fingers through the holes, and swinging her feet up to stabilize. With flashes of light, she carves through tiny sections of the grating, with Molly standing below to catch the steaming metal pieces before they clatter to the ground. With the hole large enough for them to climb through, Beau pockets the laser and twists herself up through the hole, up into the next level of the utilities system. Beau offers her hand down to help pull everyone up and through. 

This next level is much shorter than the conveyor system, and even Nott has to crouch. Slotted white light filters through the right side of the ventilation system, from a passageway running parallel to the vents. The gentle hum of ventilation is louder now, and there is a faint pull of air across their faces.

“We didn’t pass the tower, did we?” Nott whispers, but Caleb holds out his hand and quickly covers her mouth, as a sets of footsteps approach.

Molly closes his eyes, listening to the two sets of approaching steps. There is a third pair, far less disciplined than the other march. Beau presses back against the wall, gesturing the others to do the same, trying to keep out of the light passing through the grate. Two pairs of white boots go by, dragging another figure between them. Molly only catches sight of a threadbare gray uniform and a silver anklet cuff. As they pass by, the prisoner stumbles slightly, and the stormtroopers roughly yank the prisoner back up.

“Keep up,” crackles one of the stormtroopers. 

“You’re going to stand up straight for the captain,” says the other. 

The prisoner doesn’t protest, just continues to shuffle along the passage.

Beau’s head whips back to Mollymauk, eyebrows high as if asking a question. Molly considers for a moment and then gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Beau frowns but stays in her place. A short distance away, there is a hiss of mechanical doors opening, and the footsteps disappear.

“That must be the lift up the communication tower,” Molly says. “We’re close.”

“We could have grabbed them,” Beau says. “Why didn’t you let me take care of those two?”

“Then what? Drag them along with us? I don’t have enough climbing gear for another person, so really the lift is going us a favor.”

“We better hurry,” Caleb says. “Who knows what plans they have for the prisoner.”

“You might know,” Beau shoots back, and Caleb hunches his shoulders.

“No time for that,” Molly says, moving ahead. “Now hand Beau your climbing cables.”

“We’re not launching them?” Nott asks.

“Far too noisy,” Molly says. “Surprisingly, Beau would be quieter.” 

Just ahead, the tunnel curves to a ninety-degree angle, a straight-shot up the tower. None of the light from the passage makes it very far, creating a stretch of looming darkness above. 

“Clip the cables onto your weapons. Beau will handle the grappling end,” Molly says, demonstrating with his own cable launcher. He flips a small lock on the side of the device, and the taut cable becomes loose.

Nott glances up into the darkness. “That tower has to be at least a thousand feet tall. How can Beau get up there?”

“I just climb,” Beau says, tightening the buckles of her gloves around her wrists. She cracks her knuckles and then braces her hands on the inside of the vertical vent. She springs up into the tunnel, and Beau is gone.

“What happens if she falls?” Caleb asks.

Molly smiles. “Oh, she won’t.”

“She has never fallen?” 

“Not on purpose. And when she does, she lands on her feet.”

“She is human, yeah?”

Molly pauses, turning his ear up the tunnel. There is a slight echo of a boot scraping against metal, but then all falls silent again. “You know, I’m not quite sure. She’s always been a little weird. It’s how you end up in a Rebellion.”

No more than a few minutes later, the three chords are tugged taut from above. Molly nods towards Caleb and Nott, and with a soft click from the cable launcher, he begins ascending up the tower. Nott clips the cable to the top of her rifle, puts on her helmet, and follows, Caleb just behind. The ascent is eerily quiet, like most of their time in the base. The only sound is the soft reeling of cable, as they rise in darkness up the tower. 

There is a faint reflected light as they approach the top, the shadow of Beauregard waiting at the top to pull them into the horizontal portion of the tunnel. 

Nott begins shuffling through her backpack, pulling out the various goggles, masks and charges while Beau creeps further down the tunnel. She perches beside a four-foot square grate that leads into the control room, the fluorescent light shining through. She presses back out of the light, listening to the hum of conversation below.

“The ship landed in accordance with procedure and had appropriate access codes,” a voice says. 

“But they’re missing?” another voice asks, this one pitched high in concern.

“Could this be the prisoners’ doing?” 

There are sounds of movement, and then a loud thud as a body impacts against the floor. 

“What have you done?” a stormtrooper demands, his voice scratchy through his helmet speaker.

There is no response. 

“We need to figure this out before the captain returns,” says another. “He is going to be furious.”

There is a soft chime from across the roof, and everyone falls silent. There is a sound of doors sliding open.

“Sir!” they all shout in unison, and they all move to stand. From where Beau is, she can just see the edge of the prisoner’s body, laying on the ground.

“Report,” growls the new voice. The man strides across the Beau’s line of sight, wearing a dark gray uniform, two blasters holstered at his side. Even from this angle, he towers above the rest of the Imperials around the communications room. He stands over the prisoner sprawled across the floor.

“Sir, an Imperial craft landed on the base reporting critical hyperdrive failure. The crew of the ship has since disappeared.”

“And no one collected identification numbers on the crew?” the captain demands.

“It was only for a quick stop,” the other replies, much less confident.

With a roar of frustration, there is a sound of a body hitting the floor, and panicked gasps of someone who lost the breath from their lungs.

“While your incompetence is astounding, I assume you have sent a squadron to investigate. What’s the report from the hangar?” the captain asks, his composure seemingly returned. 

There is a few beeps, before a voice is patched through over a speaker: “The hyperdrive failure seems legitimate, but there is no one here, and the doors to the hangar bay did not look to be disturbed when we enter. No record of them having been opened.”

“So we just have a crew of unidentified lifeforms wandering about  my base?”

The voice over the speaker clears their throat. “We will begin searching all access routes to the hangar immediately.”

“Who is checking security footage?”

A more feminine voice speaks up from a different corner of the control room.. “Captain, many of the cameras were not set up yet. We have very limited eyes around the base. There is only the footage watching the quarry.”

“Start looking back at the footage,” he says. “Look for anything suspicious. And why haven’t guards been stationed at any potential access points?”

A different, mousy voice pipes up from another corner of the room: “Well, you  have been stretching patrols pretty thin as it is.”

“Do not question me, Lieutenant.” There is a brief flash of red as he draws a blaster and points it across the room. 

There are a few sharp gasps, but they all fall silent as the Captain looks around. 

“I don’t suppose you know anything about this?” he asks, kicking at the figure on the floor. The prisoner groans quietly, trying to curl away from the captain. With a frustrated growl, the captain stalks back across the room, out of sight. “I don’t have the patience to deal with her today. Drag her back down to the quarry and make an example of her to the others. She’s too dangerous to keep alive, especially if word gets around that there is a security breach.”

“Yes, Captain Lorenzo,” the stormtroopers say in unison, and move to pick up the prisoner.

Beau spins towards Molly, her eyes wide. Molly gives her one quick nod, pulling the goggles and mask over his face. Beneath the translucent green mask, Beau can see him grin. He plucks the smoke screens from Nott’s hands as Beau kicks the grate out of place beneath them. Within seconds, the thick, gray-white fog fills the space below them. Molly nods towards his companions, before disappearing into the sea of smoke below.


	5. Chapter 5

Nila escorts Fjord, Yasha and Jester out of the tunnel, her wide eyes scanning nervously for troopers. The quarry before them spans a hundred feet across, with various catwalks criss-crossing above and below them. Some catwalks are partially constructed, and few seem to be accessible to the patrolling stormtroopers, only visible from the spotlights on their weapons scanning the area around them. Running perpendicular to these walkways are the giant ore lifts that emerge from the darkness below. There is audible clanging from these ratcheted pulley systems that lift giant bailers filled with rock. The noise is enough to drown out any sound, with the clatter echoing around the space.

The quarry is dimly lit by bulbs of flickering lights along the outer walls. Where they all emerge, there is a ten-foot-wide carved path slowly spirals down the hole and further up the quarry. Peaking over the edge deeper into the quarry, there is only darkness, with only the flickering lights outlining the spiraling descent. 

“It still seems rather sparse on patrols,” Fjord murmurs, following Nila out between the gap in the bent metal doors. Jester hoists Sprinkle up through the gap, followed by Yasha and Shakäste, leaving behind his temporary reprieve from the mine itself. 

“It won’t be long before they start searching the base for intruders,” Shakäste says. “We need to move quickly. Jester, I’ll take you to the tunnels on the opposite side. Nila can take Fjord and Yasha to the base of the mineshaft where the bucket pick up ore.”

“Stay safe,” Fjord says, nodding towards Jester and Sprinkle. “We’ll meet up with you soon.”

Jester smiles and gives Fjord a small salute. “We’ll be out of here in no time.”

Jester and Shakäste split off, and begin crossing the bridge. They crouch down and move as quickly as Shakäste can manage, their droids humming alongside them determinedly. With a blink, they have disappeared into the darkness of the walkway. 

Nila leads them deeper down the sloping path further into the chasm. Nila moves with a practiced experience, moving between blocks of shadow between the flickering lightbulbs strung alongside the path. The only stormtroopers they see are those patrolling above.

“There are a lot more troopers at the bottom,” she warns as they descend. “That is where we are working.”

Yasha stares at the lifts going by, overflowing with rubble. It’s a constant churn of material up the chasm.

“Do you know why they are mining all this?” Yasha whispers. 

Nila shakes her head. “I don’t even know where all this ore goes. We have just been told to dig. We don’t even look for anything in particular.”

Fjord says, “We saw loads of ore in the hangar bay we came through. It doesn’t look like they are in any hurry to ship it anywhere.”

“What’s the point of digging a hole on an isolated moon?” Yasha asks.

Fjord grimaces. “I wish I knew.”

Nila ducks down and peaks over the edge of the ramp. The bottom of the mine is becoming visible from here, illuminated with the same dull light, but more concentrated where everyone congregates. Yasha and Fjord can see the prisoners from here, nearly a hundred people at the bottom. Some are wielding pickaxes, chipping away at the walls and ground around them, while others are shoveling rocks towards the seven ore lift rising up. All while dozens of troopers patrol in formation through the maze of rubble.

Nila gestures to the lift closest to them, saying, “That’s your ride up. When you’re about fifty feet from the top of the lift, you should be able to see the doors, guarded by two troopers or so. There aren’t really any other doors to get confused with unless you ride up to the atrium.” She glances down at the ore lifts, where prisoners are shoveling material into the buckets. “I will make sure they don’t dump a ton of ore on you before it takes you up. Wait over there.” She points to a shadowed corner behind the base of the lift, the a giant gear box churns. “When you put the weapons in, they will get dumped into that pit behind the lift. I don’t think it will be noticed. Sometime debris piles up there from what doesn’t get dumped on the conveyor. We will wait for your friend’s signal from the tower to pick up the weapons.”

Yasha and Fjord carefully scale down the rough rock wall the twenty feet to get to the base of the mine. Nila picks up a shovel while she scurries down the ramp, dropping in as subtly as she can. As she moves closer to the lift, a stormtrooper shove her from behind, shouting something inaudible over the clanging gears. Nila stumbles but presses forward. From the shadows, Yasha and Fjord watch her take up her position beside the others. This close to the gears, a hushed word can’t be exchanged with being noticeable to the patrolling troopers, but as the others make space for Nila by this lift, they already seem to be aware of the plan that is taking shape.

“Let’s move,” Fjord whispers, and he slides from the shadows, vaulting himself up into the swaying bucket, just big enough to hide when he crouches. Yasha jumps into the next one on the line, and presses against the side, pulling up a dark hood to hide the white ends of her hair. 

The buckets tip sideways to have ore easily shoveled in, and Fjord and Yasha have to brace themselves against the sides of the buckets to ensure they don’t go tumbling out. Nila and her two companions nod as their buckets swing by, miming shoveling in the rocks, but not pushing them enough to crush their rebel allies. 

The buckets tip back up as the lift begins to climb the hundreds of feet towards the surface. The journey is jarring, with every ten feet or so the ratcheting system transferring the bucket to the next segment of the structure. Fjord peaks over the edge, carefully not to sway the bailer too much and draw attention to the movement. 

After a few long minutes, the space around them lightens, approaching the surface of the moon base. Fjord glances around, his eyes tracing the spiraling ramp until he spots the only pair of metal doors along the way, guarded by two troopers, blasters at the ready. 

In one movement, he leaps from the bailer, landing squarely on the chest of the first trooper. The guard stumbles to the ground and his head cracks off the floor, falling silent. Behind him, Yasha makes her jump, landing a breath away from the other trooper. Using her momentum, she jams her elbow under the trooper’s chin, and then rounding through with another pump square in the face. Her armored knuckles crack through the helmet, splinter against his face and scattering droplets of blood across her knuckles. 

Yasha lifts the limp trooper arm towards a glowing blue panel, and it illuminates green with a chime. The doors slide open and together drag in the troopers. 

“How long before they notice these guards missing?” Fjord asks. 

“Not long,” Yasha answers, eying the weaponry around them, taking in the options.

The armory is a narrow chamber, but long, running back fifty feet, with parallel lights switching on as they enter. The lights reveal dozens of blasters lined up against the wall, plus rifles and explosives on racks below. There are also assorted pieces of stormtrooper armor organized on hanging hooks on the wall. While Fjord ties together the hands and feet of the two unconscious troopers, Yasha starting grabbing a handfuls of the simple blasters from their racks. From the trooper, Fjord pulls off the gauntlet that had given them access to the armory, hoping it will still work on his own forearm. Fjord picks up what remains, both their arms now full. 

“Is there anyway to see outside this door without opening?” Fjord asks, picking up as many of the remaining blasters he can manage.

“I think we just have to take a chance. Hope no one is waiting outside the doors.” 

Fjord nods and holds up the gauntlet to the access panel. The panel illuminate green, and the doors slide open.

Yasha peaks out the door back into the mineshaft, scanning their surrounding, but the troopers seem to be sparsely patrolling this high up in the quarry. When the doors to the armory shut behind them, Yasha cracks the control panel with her elbow, leaving it sparking and inoperable, with the unconscious troopers are still locked inside as well.

“Careful when you jump,” Yasha says. “It’s a long way down.”

With a steady breath, she takes a running leap off the platform towards the vertical lift, disappearing silently into one of the passing buckets. Fjord follows a beat after, landing in the slot just above hers. 

The long but few minutes pass as they descend, shifting and tossing with every section of the lift. The clanking gears grow louder as they approach the base of the mine. Just as the bailers tip to the side preparing to accept rocks, Yasha and Fjord roll out, one after the other, and duck into the shadows behind the lift. Fjord peers through the machinery, trying to catch Nila’s gaze. 

Nila is still working where they had left her. As if she could feel his gaze on her, she glances up and catches the glint of his yellow green eyes in the shadow. She takes a visible sigh of relief and nods. 

And so they wait for Molly’s signal. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for your patience with getting this next episode up! I'll be back to a regular weekly update for the most part. I'm currently doing the rough drafts for the end of Episode V but it's a lot of fun going back to edit and getting to read through as I post these. I hope you are enjoying the series as much as I enjoy sharing it!


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